


Blue

by ViktoryKill



Series: The Mission X Chronicles [3]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Denial of Feelings, Depressed Keith (Voltron), Drunken Confessions, Drunken Shenanigans, Drunkenness, Dubious Morality, Heavy Drinking, Lance (Voltron) is a Mess, M/M, Party, Sexual Confusion, Sleep Sex, Socially Awkward Keith (Voltron), Surprise Kissing, Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-26
Updated: 2020-08-26
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:26:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26117170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ViktoryKill/pseuds/ViktoryKill
Summary: It's the last day of training before a short holiday, and also Keith's birthday.Keith is depressed and gets extremely drunk; and Lance, against his better judgment, succumbs to his lust for him.
Relationships: Keith & Lance (Voltron), Keith/Lance (Voltron)
Series: The Mission X Chronicles [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1894618
Comments: 6
Kudos: 48





	Blue

**Author's Note:**

> Very dubious behavior going on here. I think it's in the tags but ya know.

October 23rd was on a Saturday.

That made it totally awesome just by default as far as Lance was concerned. But it was a day of rejoicing for everyone in the training regime.

The first half of their job was completed, and those who had done well had earned a week's vacation on their home world - or wherever else they chose to go. All the guys were psyched. Not only did they feel a great sense of achievement, and that they were twice as close to their dreams as before, now they could take some time off to chill and kick back.

And deservedly so - they'd been working their arses off for a good half a year.

Some of the senior cadets, who were old enough to remember how it got done in college, bought cases of beer and some pizza, and held a party - complete with special viewing of cheesy films - down in the rec room.

And the junior cadets, who were young enough to remember how it got done in high school, flocked to the scene like crows around a butterstick.

Lance brought out his case of old '90s CDs, and blasted them at full volume in the triple high-fidelity speakers. 

It was pretty incredible, seeing this place that had once been just a training facility where nothing but hard work went down, transform into the ultimate funhouse, complete with strobelites and huge widescreen TVs. But there it was right in front of him, for one cool night at least. And man, did he intend to bask in the glory.

Lance was in the middle of his first beer when he saw a familiar face. One he hadn't been expecting.

Keith.

Of all the guys who wouldn't have come to this hangout - or any other, for that matter - Lance was most certain of Keith.

Keith stayed out of _everything_ , for crying out loud, regardless of circumstance. What had brought him out to a gathering this big? Was he actually trying to make an effort, since this was the last day for a while?

Could sentiment actually be creeping into his heart? A heart which, as far as Lance knew, was more ice cold than Andre 3000?

He smirked at the thought of Keith going mushy, but quickly straightened up as the guy himself shot a look straight in his direction before striding towards him.

"Hey," he said. No real friendliness. If he was making an effort, it all went into the faint plastic smile on his face, leaving the rest of him cold and distant.

"Hey, Keith!" said Lance, refusing to let it get to him. "Wasn't expecting to see you. Guess even you can't stay up in your room with all this goin' on, eh?" He grinned.

Keith just shrugged. "All _what_?" he asked. It wasn't sarcastic. It was a genuine question, as if he really couldn't comprehend what Lance meant by "all this."

"Well, ya know, the lights. The music. The _atmosphere_ ," said Lance, grinning. "The atmosphere is infectious, it's crazy." He leaned in conspiratorially and whispered, "It's irresistable."

Keith raised his eyebrows. "Is it?" he sounded unconvinced. Then he shook his head in disgust. "Who fucking cares. I just wanted to know where's the alcohol."

"There's a whole table of it over there," said Lance, pointing over his shoulder. "We've got all the best. The old classics like Heineken and Budweiser, more familiar shit like Nunvill and Mange, and who could forget, the most potent in the Galaxy - straight 100% Concierge Dieu, that'll kill ya every -"

"Thanks," cut in Keith, and he strode past Lance towards the table.

"Huh," Lance tilted his head. "Talk about the life of the party." He went to switch on another movie, shaking his head as he sat down next to a half-eaten box of pizza.

Keith, meanwhile, went to the table and took a full crate of alcoholic beverages from it, then made himself comfortable at the furthest table in the room. One with no chairs, where almost no one else would dream of sitting or even getting close to.

Shit, it felt old-hat at this point. Almost cliche, to be hiding away like this, "the lone wolf guarding his ground," as some fool had called him.

But he didn't care. He did what he had to do, and it was for his own sanity.

And anyway, who really gave a fuck in the end. He was just going to sit here and get drunk, and woe to anyone who started bugging him once he'd reached a blood alcohol level above 50%.

* * *

Lance didn't know why he was doing this. It was at the height of folly, really. Keith was nearly impossible to approach at the best of times, and today, for whatever reason, Lance just knew it was the worst of all times today. Today, he should just be leaving Keith alone.

But he was bored, and the other dudes had had enough of his banter and unfunny jokes for once. He'd kind of been driven into a corner himself. And unlike Keith, he wasn't a fan of just sitting around on his lonesome. He wanted somebody to kick it with, somebody to talk to.

So here he was. Approaching Keith, who was hunched over the table, chugging a bottle of... Concierge Dieu?

The fuck?

Lance didn't know whether to feel admiration or concern. No one in their right minds tried to chug down Concierge Dieu - it could literally kill you if you drank too much or if your system was weak. Or if you'd simply had too much alcohol beforehand.

"Uh, hi," said Lance, looking at the floor and only now realizing there was nowhere to sit. Apparently Keith was sitting on an overturned crate, and there was only one.

Keith looked blearily up at Lance, a blank expression on his face. He took a hard swallow, then said, "Hey," in a peculiarly lucid voice - at least for someone who'd just downed an entire bottle of Concierge Dieu.

"What's up?" Lance found a cardboard box in the corner and sat down. 

Keith shrugged. "Not much. How's you?"

"I'm fine," said Lance. "Havin' a great time, actually. It's so cool that we finally get to do something else besides work and fight and train. I mean, yeah, that shit's gotta be done, but all work and no play makes Lancey a dull boy, ya know?"

Keith laughed.

 _Actually laughed_.

**Aloud.**

Lance was so shocked that it took a good few moments for it to register.

It was such a nice laugh, low and lilting and slightly distracted, as if he were actually laughing at something else, and he rested his cheek in his hand, smiling at Lance with what almost looked like affection.

"Oh yeah?" he finally said, after a few seconds.

"Yeah," said Lance, still too startled to come out with much else. 

Keith sighed and shook his head, and cracked open a can of beer.

"Hey, don't ya think you're overdoing it?" Lance said quizzically. "I mean, I'm all for getting a buzz on, but this is a little ridiculous, no?" And he nodded towards all the empty cans and bottles littered across the table.

Keith shrugged indifferently. "For me it takes a while," he said, and drained the beer can in a matter of seconds.

Lance grinned. "Impressive." he said.

"Why?" Keith was reaching for another one.

"It just is," said Lance. "I like a guy who can drink his way under the table." 

" _What._ " Keith cracked it open.

  
"Eh, maybe I said it wrong," Lance replied good-naturedly, rubbing his forehead. "I had a few drinks myself - always start flubbing sentences. It's the first thing to go."

Keith glugged down his beer, then threw it on the table among the other sixteen with a heavy sigh.

"I'm tired," he said thickly, looking down at the table absently. "I'm so tired of it."

"Of what?" Lance asked curiously.

"Of _everything_." said Keith. "I get confused, man. I don't know what to say... or what I'm doin' sometimes... in certain situations...you know?"

He laughed, a shade of bitterness coating it. "I know what I'm doin'... in ssssome cases. Yeah? Like when I'm fighting, an' that. But when I'm out of that... that..." Keith made a gesture with his fingers, trying to find the word. "Eh, shit." He dropped them on the table with a slew of weird giggles. "It's gone."

"Say it again?" said Lance, amused (Keith's drawn-out, slurred speech reminded him of a hippie). "You think you don't know what you're doing?"

"I _know_ I don't," drawled Keith, the lazy, drunken smile still playing on his face, and he went on drinking from a large silver can of Nunvill. "Mmmmmm," he sighed, his tongue lolling out, and laughed when he saw Lance's transfixed expression. "What's wrong?" he slurred. "Am I lookin' weird, or somethin'? ...Eh?"

Lance tried to keep his gaze from looking too fixated. Tried to look less startled, less amazed by Keith's face.

He was _so fucking handsome_.

His long black hair, his glowing dark eyes, the way his lank body looked as he leaned back casually, in alcohol-induced laziness. It did strange things to Lance. Made his blood rush a bit faster. Made his heart pulse with electricity.

His breath hitched as he realized what he was actually feeling. What the tingling sensation in his nerves meant.

It _had_ to be the alcohol. He wasn't _really_ thinking these thoughts. He was just a little drunk. Gotta keep things under control. 

"'ssss my birthday," Keith was saying, absently touching his Adam's apple, his voice heavy with an odd sadness, especially given what he'd said should've been a good situation. Something to celebrate.

"Did you know?"

"No dude," said Lance. "Damn. You've gotta be feeling pretty good about that, eh? Your birthday, and we're already throwing a big party." He wrinkled his nose. "You shoulda told me, though! I woulda gotcha somethin'."

Keith leaned back further against the wall, his shirt riding up and exposing some of his ghostly pallid skin. "Oh, I _hate_ it," he said, still smiling, albeit ruefully. "Sometimes... I _genuinely_ wish..." He was about to go on, or so Lance assumed judging by the unfinished tone of his voice, but he just shook his head as if the words had drifted away from him.

He was, Lance realized, so drunk he could barely hold his eyes open. 

"Hey," said Lance, getting up from the table, intending to be a responsible friend. "I'd better get you to your room before you conk out right in front of everyone."

"There'ssss... nobody here," Keith slurred out. He said it indifferently, but with an odd weariness, and for some reason, the sad look in his glazed eyes made Lance feel stricken.

"Come on, man, you know that's not true," he said, slinging his arm around Keith. "Now let's go."

* * *

When they got upstairs, Keith immediately collapsed onto his bed.

"Daammmnnn, I'm gonna feel it tommmooorrow..." he drawled, grinning up at the ceiling.

Lance laughed with him. He liked to see Keith smiling. In fact, he seemed better all-around when he was drunk. More outgoing, a little more open. A little warmer.

"Yo, Keith, you like to play Call of Duty? I mean, I know it's fuckin' old, but it's like, the best game -" Lance started, but soon realized Keith had drifted off.

Well, that was that.

Time to get back to the party.

But Lance didn't leave. He just stood there, looking down at Keith. His chest, as it rose and fell at a perfect rhythm, his breathing heavy and relaxed. 

Before he even realized what he was doing, Lance was leaning forward, pressing his lips against Keith's. Candy. Keith's lips were like candy. Sweet, like the alcohol he'd just been drinking. 

And Lance was getting intoxicated by it. Keith's hair smelled like a fresh breeze, and he took a long breath, trying to hold it in his memory.

And boom. Just like that, reality hit him. What the fuck was he doing? Kissing _Keith_? This weird dude he barely knew!? A DUDE, at that!?

He instantly sprang away, wiping his lips with his hand. "Shit, I'm sorry," he muttered, even though Keith was still in blissful unconsciousness. "Shit, shit, shit."

But as much as Lance wanted to just walk away - as much as he wanted to simply leave this situation and never come back - he couldn't. He was far too... aroused.

"Keith?" he mumbled, trailing his hand reluctantly on Keith's forehead, as if checking for a fever. Keith only gave a soft snore in reply.

Lance let his hands wander on Keith's forehead for a while, running them through his thick waves of black hair. Just toying around, trying to act like he didn't want to do what he was about to do. Trying to pretend that his hands would just slip further and further down by accident. A fortunate accident.

He lingered ridiculously long on Keith's stomach, wrestling with himself, and - well, just having normal fascination with his well-toned figure. Nice muscles, even if they were lean as fuck. And who wouldn't admire that.

 _Oh, goddamn it._ He was giving up. _Fuck this puddy-footing._

His fingers flew to Keith's tight jeans. For a moment or two, he just admired what lay beneath. 

Keith had fucking spider legs, so skinny jeans should've been perfect for him; but at the crotch they were half unzipped, just by default, apparently. 

_Ha._ Lance grinned. Clearly, even Keith couldn't fit his enormous package in that constriction. _Nice._

Lance unzipped Keith's jeans fully, and grinned again. For whatever reason, he'd been expecting the polka-dot panties to be there, but it was just plain black boxers this time around. 

Once again, Lance paused to just admire what he saw. He glanced at Keith for a moment, then gave an experimental stroke on his dick. Instantly, it sprung to life, getting slightly hard at Lance's touch.

Keith himself sighed. A soft, contented sigh, one Lance remembered all too well.

Lance grinned, feeling far too good about this whole thing. He slipped his hand in Keith's boxers, and gave a few gentle, introductory strokes. Purposefully short, purposefully unfulfilling, just to get him started.

The sighs rained down from Keith, a bit heavier than before, full of pleasure, and coated with a shade of pain. 

_Perfect._

Lance quickly pulled his thumb around so that he could get the ideal grip, and, slightly peeved and more delighted at the fact that his fingers could barely get around it properly, shoved his free hand in as well.

Looked like Keith hadn't been getting any action lately. Not a surprise, since they were in training, but still. It clearly had been a while, judging by how weighted down his cock and balls were. 

Lance kept stroking, gently at first, then slightly stronger, faster. It was all tantalizingly slow, and the more he toyed around, the harder Keith became, his dick pulsating with blood, inflating to its full size.

Keith groaned muffledly, and Lance shot a glance at him. His face was full of arousal, a sloshed grin playing on his features. Lance smiled himself. "See?" he said softly, picking up the pace. "Told ya I could make you feel good."

He slipped his hand around Keith's balls, angling his thrusts to wrench every pleasurable tension out of them, never ceasing to stroke his dick. This double stimulation would bring waves of pleasure, and make Keith feel like he was being carressed on all sides. A brigade of ecstasy, if you will. Like a bunch of cannons going off at once, straight to his brain's joy receptors.

Keith grunted heavily, and Lance could see by his face that he was in the weird state of pain and pleasure that always comes before a climax.

When you feel like there's so much beautiful tension that you're gonna die if you don't bust a nut pretty goddamn soon.

Lance kept the pressure on, pumping harder and harder, hitting all the right angles and pleasure spots. Keith groaned sluggishly, almost laughing at times, ache and ambrosia falling from him by turns in his heavy, rolling sighs.

 _Music to my ears_ , thought Lance, grinning cockily.

And now, for the final chord.

His fingers danced perfectly over the back of Keith's neck, as his other hand went on stroking and pumping. An erogenous zone, plus a glorious run of motions over Keith's dick and balls. 

Game over.

Keith's sough, labored from the narcotic effects of alcohol, was long and sated, brimming with gratification, relief, and ecstasy.

Lance felt rewarded by it, and by the warm white fluid that was now all over his hands.

"No way in hell I'm gonna taste it," Lance thought.

But he did anyway. Licked it like the cream from a milkshake. If it had been anyone but Keith, he probably would've felt disgusted - it's not like it was horrible, it was just salty. A little sweet. Left a metallic after-taste in his mouth. Not exactly something he wanted to be eating. 

But it was Keith's. And for whatever crazy reason, Lance loved consuming this part of him. Relished it. 

_It's the talent_ , he hastily assured himself.

_Your stupid ass thinks if you eat his jizz you'll somehow get his talent._

_That's all._

_Now get the bloody fuck off his bed!_

Lance hastily zipped up Keith's jeans - as far they would go, anyway - and ran to his own bed.

He was breathing harder than he should have been. But not out of anger, as he would have wished.

No, it was from excitement. Happiness. A little anxiety and a lot of guilt, too.

What could he say? He was a mess. 

"It's just the drinks," he thought, staring wide-eyed at the ceiling. "I swear to God that's all it is."

 _So drinking turns you gay for Keith now?_ The voice in his head was teasing, cocky, insolent.

"Shut _up_!" Lance shook a mental fist at it, with a giant whiplash to seal the point.

**Author's Note:**

> Send me your suggestions if you're so inclined. bye!


End file.
